A Broken Concept
by ChildOfDoom
Summary: I don't know what he saw in me. Never understood my specialty. I was scared and confused about something no one was supposed to know. I don't know how I came to love him, and he, me. All I knew, was, 'I'm going to die'.
1. Chapter 1

* * *

A Broken Concept

Chapter 1: Memories.

* * *

I remember it even now. The first thing I noticed was how much she changed. It was hard to miss. Her usually colorful clothes had all faded to black, her dark hair, now completely black. Her eyes, they used to be so pretty, I remember, from the few times I talked to her, had turned cold. She looked like a giant fake doll. No one knew what happened. What could have changed the ever beloved Kikyou so.

I couldn't figure it out. It was like all of a sudden, she was trying to copy me. I was the one who dressed in black, who wore black eye shadow every single day, be it Halloween or Christmas. I was the one who people went out of their way to avoid so they wouldn't be on the receiving end of yet another glare. Yeah, I knew I wasn't the nicest person, and I wasn't the happiest either, but that's why I couldn't figure out why she would copy me of all people. I was just another reject, who couldn't find enough friends to form my own clique as it was done in high school. She never talked to me though. I don't think she ever talked to any one. Her friends all ran off. I realized then, that maybe cheerleaders weren't as tight as they say they were. But I'll never know for sure, I didn't do the whole school spirit shit.

This happened in the beginning of grade 10, right after summer vacation; the school got the shock of their life. The head cheerleader had dropped out of the team, went from teachers pet to class rebel, despite the fact that she never talked. I was half expecting the school to burn down any day now, since you know, it was the end of the world and everything. Sadly enough, it stood straight and proud, no burn marks what so ever, just some graffiti scattered along the walls.

Our school was rather normal, yet we had a group for everyone but Goths, and because of that fact I contemplated dropping out a few times, but I never did. Everyone needs to talk once in a while, but I guess not every one can. I stayed in the school, and passed my classes except math. Summer school was a drag. Not only is half of your summer wasted, but its wasted in a building full of morons with no air conditioning. Needless to say, I wanted to die.

I'll admit, I've done a lot of stupid things in my life, but what I did that summer was definitely, without a doubt the stupidest. In one of my moments of complete breakdowns, I decided to release all the annoying emotions that kept fighting for dominance inside my head. I found a razor. I marked myself a Goth, with perfect scars on my wrists. The next day was hell. I couldn't concentrate in school because my hands hurt, and the blood that went down the drain last night kept flashing in my head. I didn't get much sleep even though I felt dead. I got on the wrong bus and got to school late. The heat was horrible, but I had to wear a shirt with long sleeves and ended up barely conscious by the time I stumbled home thanks to dehydration. I never thought my summer could get any worse. But alas! It did. A few days after summer school ended, I went out with my friends to the movies, and ended up with a sleep over. By then, both my hands were covered with all sorts of spiky bracelets up to my elbows. I only realized that fact after it was time to change into night clothes and go to bed. I couldn't sleep, trying to hard to hide my scarred hands under the thin white blanket on top of me. I think I fell asleep for a few hours before the sunrise, and when I woke up my friends were already awake. I couldn't guess if they saw or not, but for the rest of the day they didn't say anything except ask why I wouldn't take my bracelets off. I think I sprouted some bullshit about sentimental value.

By the end of the day we ended up in a local park, eating ice cream and watching some guys try to flirt. It was rather sad. My head hurt so much, I thought I was going to die, I didn't say anything though. They would have asked why, and I didn't want to lie to them, despite us not being so close anymore. I wanted to tell the truth, to anybody, but I knew I couldn't. People don't understand you when you say you slit your wrists. They call the mental hospital and make sure you arrive there safely.

When we split up to go home, they promised to call and get together the next day. They never called. Only then did I realize the strange expression on my friends place and the whispering that went on when I was in the wash room. They knew. It's been four months. I haven't heard from them. They had a party. I wasn't invited. Life sucked.

To get my mind of my suicidal thoughts, I decided to try and do my community hours. I called my best friend and asked if I could go with her. She said sure, she'll tell me when and how to get there. A few days later, I was there. And I wanted to shoot my brains out when I realized where it was. I was officially working at Kids Help Phone. Bad luck was my new stalker.

After going there 3 times, I couldn't stand the strange looks everyone was sending me. I quit. My friend got pissed and wouldn't talk to me for a while. But its better now, she doesn't mention it much anymore. I don't think she ever forgave me for that though. Now people there think she had irresponsible friends. I seem to be letting everyone down lately. Before I went to school, I died my hair. Now it was not only black but blue as well. It matched my new contacts. I guess I unconsciously wanted to change who I was, or maybe this was some new version of an identity crisis.

School started. On the first day, I dressed worse then usual. Black flowing skirt with chains everywhere. It clashed but I didn't care. I didn't care about much back then. My hair was waist length by then, I could sit on it if I wasn't careful. It got stuck to everything. I even had a shredder accident once. Needless to say, it ended up broken.

I think people got even more freaked out with my appearance. I looked like death. Or so says my public of loyal fans. Well at least when they think I'm not listening. My friends boyfriend is an idiot. He told me once that this style didn't match me. According to Mr. Smart Ass, I was more of a girl next door type. He was in the hospital for a week. Doesn't talk to me much now.

Life was pretty dull, when it school actually started. My teachers sucked, my ex-friends are morons, and my best friend only had one class with me. I was in a bad mood for a long time.

I took drama this year, just to see, you know? Hey, maybe I'll be famous one day. I knew that was bullshit, but I was trying to do something with myself, you know? Besides sleeping through all of my classes. As I look back on it now, I don't know if that was the best thing I ever did or my biggest mistake.

He was there too. I thought he was going to transfer, like he said last year. That why surprise flickered across my face when he walked in my drama class, looking just as he did last year. I don't know why he didn't transfer, he always said he was unhappy here, and would transfer soon enough. I never saw him in summer school and assumed that he had, indeed, transferred.

I tried to ignore his glances through out the class, but somehow found myself looking back at him once in a while, hoping he wouldn't see. He caught me, and it was strange. I was acting like I actually cared. I was the one who people avoided, and I was completely not myself.

I wasn't a full out Goth, and yes, I did have feelings even though I tried to hide them as much as I could. I did dress in black, but that was only because I hated colours. I liked red though, but it wasn't my colour. Not with my blue hair anyway.

He never talked to me, just glanced at me, as though to see if I was still there. I found myself glancing back sometimes, wanting to see he was there as well. Not that I would ever admit to it.

Life seemed okay for a while, it didn't have any surprises and I was getting used to eating lunch with my only friend. She was nice, I guess, I trusted her with most things. I even told her I slit my wrists, and she promised not to tell as long as I didn't do it again. She asked to see my scars but I refused till she stopped asking. I couldn't show them, I have no idea why.

I felt strange lately, just when my life seemed normal, I seemed to drop lower into my stage of 'Life sucks'. My parents didn't notice, but took me to the doctor anyway. Some sort of check up. Turns out I had depression. Two kinds actually. Bi-polar and anti-social. That explained a lot. My friend wasn't that surprised. I guess she sort of knew, but didn't want to mention it.

I suppose my parents expected me to be surprised when I found out, they certainly were. They scared the poor doctor, threatening lawsuits that he would accuse me of anything like that. I guess they later realized he was right and made me go back. I think it got worse with the time it took them to get over it. I could no longer sleep and nightmares were all I could remember. It went to the point of me sleeping with the light on or just not sleeping at all. They got worried.

I was put on sleeping pills, though it didn't do much for the nightmares, I could now sleep through the night, and sometimes my alarm clock as well. Though for the rest of the day I felt dead to the world. I no longer noticed him, or understood what the teachers kept droning on and on in class. Detention hall was my second home. And let me tell you, I wanted a new one.

My friend was still with me, and I felt closer to her then I ever did to my parents. Strangely enough, she was nothing like me. She wasn't a Goth or a punk; she wore colours and laughed more then anyone I knew. It was strangely comforting; knowing that even at my worst, there was still someone who wasn't completely repulsed by how much I screwed up. Take notice that I was only 15. I had quiet some time left, and god knows I'll manage to screw up even more. Yet she stayed by me.

I tried to fix myself. I really did, even though by then, slitting my wrists was a habit. I stopped, surprising myself. I never felt more proud of anything. My parents brought me to the doctor again. I was actually happy, because I could prove to him that I'm not that bad of a screw up.

He made me take a few tests. He said just in case. I didn't really mind. A week later I was called back to have a little chat. After dodging the subject for nearly half an hour, he finally told me.

I was going to die.

I didn't believe him at first. He was young after all, something could have been mixed up. I didn't want to hear anything else. My parents were freaked out. It was something strange they said. I had an infection in my blood. From an open wound. They didn't know how such thing was possible. But I knew then.

I had my share of breakdowns. Once even in a public washroom on a school trip. I ran in and closed the door, my eyes watered and black tears ran down my cheeks. It was the dirtiest washroom I've ever been to, but I didn't care. I went to the paper towel dispenser and putting my wrist on the cutting line, pressed hard. Blood seeped out, down my arm, onto my black clothes, on the floor. I couldn't stand, feeling dizzy, I collapsed on the floor. Dirt and water was everywhere, but I couldn't get up. The dirty water burned my skin, and blood mixed with it. After I few minutes I forced myself to go to the door, and collapsed onto my friend as soon as it was open.

It was a while ago, before I ever though about trying to stop screwing my life over.

And now that I look back on that, I can't help but think how stupid I was. I don't remember ever crying so hard.

And yet it was ironic. For a person who thought of suicide nearly every hour of their life, I was strangely scared. Wasn't this what I wanted? This was my way out of hell, out of the whispers, the glares, the insults. Wouldn't this be better? No one could call me a coward. I didn't kill myself. Not really.

But then I realized, that no, I didn't want this. I didn't want to die. I was only 15. I have not been to a dance before; I have not kissed or fallen in love. I was still a child, hiding in the body of a teenager angry at the world. I was just avoiding the hurt that would come. And suddenly, I was so scared I was shaking. I couldn't stand, collapsing on the floor by my bed and sobbing into the red comforter hanging limply of my bed.

I still wanted to live. It was all I could think of. I wanted my life back, but it seemed that was the one thing I could not have.

Ever since that day, I have cried my self to sleep every night. In school I was the same person as before. I still laughed sometimes, and slept through classes. I never told any one. Not even my best friend.

It seems I was finally being punished for all of my mistakes. No one knew of a cure for what I have done to myself. I would die. They didn't know when. And that was worst of all. All I could do was wait.

And as I looked around at everyone, I couldn't help but think, would any one miss me?

I think it was at that time that I started noticing him again. I don't know why, but he looked at me differently. Like he knew something everyone else didn't. I tried to ignore it, and I was doing so well. After all, I didn't need to get attached to anyone, especially not now.

He saw something in me, he later said, I suppose that was the reason why he finally talked to me.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

A Broken Concept

Chapter 2

* * *

The first time we talked was on that stage. I hated that stage, hated going up and hated hiding behind faces of different people. But most of all I hate going up there and being myself. That one thing that was harder to fake then all the others.

"I just don't understand why my character would like someone like him!" I growled at the teacher, frustrated that I had to work in such close contact with someone like him.

"Because I'm hot." He answered, that stupid smirk on his face, yet his eyes were hiding something. I didn't care. Frowning I turned to the teacher.

"I think my character needs a better reason then that." I rolled my shoulders, ready to storm out of the class, not all that worried about the circumstances or punishments of my actions. I hated this class.

"You know, I don't understand why my character is attracted to her either. It says in the script that you're a bitch." He said, not a hint of humour in his voice.

I turned away from the teacher to glared at him. "It doesn't say that in the script." I growled out.

He plastered a huge smile across his face. "It does in mine!" Turning around he walked away, his script dropped at the floor by my feet.

I growled, throwing my script at his retreating back, grabbing my bag and storming out of the basement drama room, officially pissed.

Who gives a damn about him anyway?

The door slammed closed as the teacher continued screaming our names.

-------

I was mad alot of the time those days, even my best friend went out of her way to avoid me. I skipped most of my classes, choosing to attend only when absolutely nessesary. My parents still refused to come to terms with everything and send off to school everyday as though I was perfectly fine. I never went to school then, instead taking up residence at a local Starbucks caffe, relaxing on the back couches with my personal favourite, strawberries and creme frapuchinos and a few books I snatched up from the library whenever I went to school. It was a much more comfortable life then I ever could have hoped for during the school year, and I enjoyed it to the fullest.

My parents got frequent phone calls from school about my absence, but no one ever took the question up with me, instead they pretended the messages were misinforming and quietly agreed to accept that the school was just run the wrong way.

I missed a few weeks of school by then, never once going back to drama class, mostly because I was still mad at HIM for walking away from me. That's why I was so surprized when one morning while I was enjoying my usual frapichino, a shadow fell across my book, interupting my reading session. I looked up, holding my breath and hoping I wouldn't choke on my drink I stared at him.

For a while he just stood there, looking down at me with those deep golden eyes, and I couldn't make myself breathe. I though maybe I was dying, right there and right now, but that wasn't it. I blinked a few times, but he was still there, his eyes still glued to mine.

I swallowed the drink, and opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again, not really having anything to say.

"You're going to fail drama." he told me. Not that I could care less, mind you, but something in those eyes disturbed me.

"I don't care." I told him. And I didn't. I was going to die, what did it matter to me what I was failing?

"Well, you should start caring. You're failing half of your classes as well." I glared at him then. What the hell? How did he know what I was failing? Who told him? That was private information, damn it!

"I don't care." I repeated again, this time through clenched teeth. Who was this guy? Honestly, you get paired up with some idiot, and he thinks he's your father or something. I huffed mentally, picking up my book, and focused my eyes on the text, though not understanding a word I read. I knew he was still standing there, staring at me with his stupid golden eyes.

He wasn't moving. And after a while i backed down. Making a big show of putting down my book I raised my eyes to glare at him. "What?"

"What's wrong with you?" he asked. Not to be mean, I could see it, but just as a question.

For one panicking moment, I felt my eyes water, felt all the pressure that was building up behind the emotional wall I build up break loose, but I pushed it back, blinked my eyes and it was gone. I was afraid of what I'd do if I didn't get away from him. Somehow, this one boy I hated almost made me tell him everything.

"Nothing." I said, picking up my bag, my book, and leaving the now melted drink by the couch, hurrying down from the second floor of the caffe. Running and feeling the tears fall down my face. Before I flew out of the caffe, out of the corner of my eyes I saw his blurred image, standing on top of the stairs, looking down at me.

And I hated him. Hated how he was taller then me, how I was always beneath him.

I hated him because he made me feel something I didn't want to feel. Not now. Not when I was dying.

----

I wanted everything. I don't know why, but one day, I just woke up and decided today is going to be different. I went to the mall. I found the slttiest skirts there were, and some tank tops that left little to the imagination. I bought heels all in different styles and colours. I changed in the public washroom in the mall, stuffing my old loose clothing in the garbage.

I realised as I walked around the bathroom in heels, seeing a strange new girl in the mirror, that I wanted to be pretty. But that I couldn't be. So I wanted something else, something close. I wanted guys to look at me. To want me. So I would dress like the people dancing on tv. I would make myself into this person they wanted, if maybe just for a while.

I remember walking out of that bathroom, I remember the whisling, and how I turned a flipped my hair, just like it said in the magazines, and I winked at them, just like the pretty girls in the movies do.

I remember I made it to school by lunch time that day. Surprizing the hell out of everyone, including my best friend, who asked me who I was when I talked to her.

By the time lunch was over the whole school was buzzing with the news.

I was a hooker, I was a stripper, I was a whore.

The rumors never stopped.

-------

I didn't go to school for a while after that either, returning to my boring lifestyle of living in the caffe, taking up the couch from nine to three every school day.

The waiters all knew me by now, smiling and waving and not judging at all.

We had conversations about the weather, and about tv, and about dogs and cats and elephants. I knew Scarlett, who was so strange to me then. She was gorgeous though, long red hair matching to her name, and crystal green eyes that shone in the sun when she laughed. She dropped out of highschool when she was still 16, just like I was now, and worked here ever since, now already 19, and living in a small appartment a few blocks from here. Her boyfriend was there sometimes.

We bacame friends ever since I started coming to the caffe everyday. she was usualy bored since no one came during the day, and sometimes we'd play cards until someone would walk through the door, ringing the bell hung above the door, and she'd run off, her hair flashing behind her as she'd smile and greet everyone.

On the weekends, we'd go over to her house sometimes, and just sit on the old worn couch and watch tv. Sometimes not tv, but just commercials. We would look at the pictures of people who's lives had changed. Some girls who had horrible skin, who looked so unhappy and so broken, and then they'd smile and cry of happiness when they were fixed. Scarlett would stare at the tv, and tilt her head to the side, watching someone else's moment of happiness before it was over, or before her boyfriend came home and changed the chanel to watching foorball, after which I was politely shooed out of the house.

He seemed nice sometimes, but sometimes I wondered why Scarlett was with him at all. I heard them fight a few times. About work, about money, about the appartment. I think he hit her too, but when I tried to mention it she'd change the subject before I realised it.

But sometimes he would come home happy, and he would take her in his arms and swing her around and she'd squel and hug him, and they would laugh, and I would think myself crazy for thinking he would ever hurt her.

Scarlett's appartment was like a second home to me then and I was happy. I got used to watching tv commercials with her, and after a while I was just as happy to see the other people transform to someone not so broken. We would both sit on the old worn couch and hold our breath as the before pictures transformed to the after, and we'd laugh and clap and be excited with the people on tv.

Because somehow, when I watched it, I though if they could be fixed, maybe I could be too.

And Scarlett wished for something as well.

But I never asked her.

But just then those pictures and our laughter carried everything bad away.

-------

I came back to school just in time to meet our new transfer student.

He was tall and dark and handsome, if you were into the whole destruction and danger kind of thing. Which I was. I went to school more often then, except I still skipped drama, refusing to go back there and face HIM.

I didn't think he had any more control over me, but I was still not ready to go back and prove myself wrong. So I stayed away, only occasionally flashing myself around the hallways, making to sure to run into the new bad boy in school, making eye contact, and mysteriously sashaying away.

He seemed interested, and I was intrigued, but school was taking its toll on me, and after a few weeks, I decided to go back on vacation.

I retreated to my couch in the caffe and long chats over card games with Scarlett.

Life was good again.

--------

My problems started when Kikyou decided she wanted to be my friend. I fought it for a while, but then I gave up, decided I had nothing to loose here. She wasn't so bad after I got to know her better. She knew a few good stores and hang out places. But after we joined forces, everyone else seemed to turn on us. I guess this was coming for a while, but I didn't realise just how it was going to come out.

The first hint I got was when my locker was burned down. After I managed to kick it open, a few dead snakes fell out, and by the way they looked, I'm assuming they were still alive when they were put it there. They just never made it through the barbeque.

Kikyou's locker was burned as well, but the inside was filled with huge spiders. I guess her cheerleader status of being untouchable died with the uniform.

We didn't go back to school for weeks after that.

------

I figured out that despite Kikyou's self-proclaimed goth status, she was lonely. She changed because she was sick of it all. The fake laughs, the rumors, the desception and backstabbing. No one really wanted to talk to her anymore, and she assumed they fit in together. I can't say we were best friends, but we got along better after that confession.

We spend time at her house, mostly beacuse her parents weren't as nosy as mine and were mostly never there.

She had a huge house, just as it is expected of a cheerleader, and a ton of clothes.

There, we could act like normal girls, and laugh, and whisper, and tell secrets. Though the biggest ones all went untold.

Most nights, we fell asleep on the floor, wrapped around in blankets in front of the tv, people still babling on because no one bothered to turn it off.

I remember those days because she still seemed so different to me. I always remembered her as the cheerleader. Always with a smile and a blue uniform.

And then I would remember my own scarred wrists and wonder how it was that we ever became friends.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

A Broken Concept

Chapter 3

* * *

Scarlett glared at his back. He was doing it again.

"What do you mean you didn't pay the rent?" she growled at him, watched as he took another beer can out of the fridge and flicked it open. His dark brown eyes focused on her crystal green ones.

"I mean I didn't pay it. I had to pay for the weed, which, by the way, you smoked with me." She narrowed her eyes, brushing the long red hair from her face, getting ready to scream.

"Shove it, I heard enough out of you today." he threw her away as he walked past her, shoving her into the door frame as he made his way towards the TV.

She rubbed her elbow, feeling another bruise forming.

Without another word, she grabbed her purse, and stormed out.

The door slammed shut on the way out.

He didn't even look up.

* * *

Kagome flipped throught the channels on the TV, happy that her parents left on vacation. For once, privacy was in every corner of the house. She was free.

And of course, there was nothing on tv.

It was Friday night, and she was bored out of her mind.

She contemplated watching a horror movie, but then thought better of it. Living in a giant house by yourself and watching horror movies was a bad idea.

But when she looked back at the TV, knowing nothing good was gonna be on for hours, her finger twitched.

She wanted entertainment damn it.

Or she'd die of boredom.

Sighing to herself, she lifted the remote, ready to press the button that would give her nightmares until her parents came back, and-

The doorbell rang.

She dropped the remote, paniced, and promptly tumbled off the couch, landing rather paintfully on her behind.

Getting up and pulling her twenty times over-sized old shirt down on her body, she wondered who could possibly come at this time.

It was almost midnight.

She took a deep breath, calming herself.

Inside her head, she chanted her mantra "It's not a horror movie, it's okay."

She opened the door just as the lighhtning flashed.

For a moment, she almost screamed, but caught herself just in time.

"Scarlett?" she whispered.

Looking at the girl now, she looked so different. Her long, red hair was wet and messy, dripping rain on the doorsteps. Her eyes red from crying, and her purse hanging limply from her hand.

"Scarlett, what happened?" the girl whispered.

"I hate him." she said as another tear ran down her cheek.

* * *

Kikyou stood in front of the mirror, studying the person who stared back at her. Dull grey eyes connected with her own, and pale lips turned downwards into a frown.

What happened to her?

She used to be happy. Used to be the captain of the cheerleading team. She wondered what ever happened to that.

But she knew, she knew as soon as her eyes found his picture stuck in her mirror frame.

Oh how the mighty hath fallen.

A tear streaked down her face, and her grey eyes shone with regret.

What he has done to her.

* * *

He watched the girls walk by. Winked at some. Waved at others.

But his eyes kept wandering back to her.

She was still sitting at the corner booth, glaring at the seat opposite of her. Willing someone to appear out of thin air.

He waved at another passing blonde, watches her giggle and flounce off.

Then back to the girl in the corner booth. He contemplated going over there, but she didn't seem to be in a good mood at all.

He looked around the club, looking for his friend.

Instead, the giggly blonde came back.

She stood next to him innocently. Slipped her hand in his. Made sure he had a grip on the paper, she bounced off again. Only looking back once, to wink at him.

Then she was gone.

He looked at the paper in his hand. Unfolding it, he stared at the digits and the name written on there.

Smiling slightly to himself, he slipped the paper in his pocket.

Well what do you know?

Looking around the club again, his eyes strayed back to the girl in the corner booth.

He was feeling brave tonight.

Taking a deep breath, he made his way through the crowd.

* * *

She glared at the drink in front of her. Then at the empty seat across from her. Then pulled pitifully at the uncomfortably short dress.

'What am I doing here?' she wondered to herself. Looking around, everyone was in couples. Dancing, laughing, and having a good time. Again, she turned her head to glare at the empty space across from her.

And she was waiting for a miracle.

She looked at the untouched drink in front of her, and taking a deep breath, drank half of it down.

Making a face, she stared at the green liquid in disgust. Whatever this was, she should remember never to order it again.

Her eyes wondered back to the couples surrounding her, and she pulled on her dress again.

Her eyes fell back on the half finished drink.

'I guess it's just you and me tonight.' she thought, taking another sip of her drink. This time it went down easier. But she was still not happy about being stood up.

Just as she was about to catch a waiter for another drink, she noticed someone moving in to sit across from her. Someone who definetly wasn't her date.

"I noticed you looking rather bored here." the man shouted over the music.

She glared at him. Both of them knowing she wasn't supposed to be here alone. She picked up her purse, ready to stalk off and kill her date, which, still hasn't arrived. "I'm not interested." she shouted back to him, standing up.

"Wait." he shouted before she could even stand. "Just wait." he repeated. "I'm Miroku." he told her, extending his hand.

Rolling her eyes, she shook his hand. "And I'm still not interested." she replied. Taking her hand back, she turned away.

"Give me five minutes," he called after her. "If you're still not interested, I wont bother you again."

She turned back to him, confused and intrigued. Her brown eyes looked into his strange violet ones. "You seem awfully confident for a guy who'd just been told to get lost."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head, and looking at her from under lowered lashes. "Yeah, stupidly charming, isn't it?"

She laughed, sitting back down at her table.

* * *

I was feeling increadibly miserable lately. My parents left on vacation, I don't even remember where. I deleted their email as soon as I got it. All I know is they'll be gone for weeks, and I had a huge house to myself and a credit card with a ten thousand dollar limit at my command.

And I was still feeling miserable.

I was sitting in my room, staring outside in the puring rain and wondering whats the point?

I was going to die.

It has finaly sunk in.

Nothing I did anymore would change that.

I was gonna die before I even got to graduate from highschool.

Before I had a chance to try and survive on my own.

Before I really got to live.

And I hated the world then.

I pulled the loose black shirt tighter around myself, then looked carefully at the scars on my wrist.

It was my fault, but I didn't care.

I wanted to blame someone else, wanted someone to take the blame for my stupidity. It was easier to breathe that way.

So, I blamed my parents. Because they didn't notice until it was too late.

I blamed my friends for running away when they should've stuck around.

I blamed every single person I could think of, because I wanted to.

I wanted them to feel bad, because I did, and it hurt, and it drove me crazy, and I hated the feelings that kept bouncing inside me and I refused to cry and everything just kept getting worse.

Lightning flashed and I watched my reflection in the glass of the window. I barely wondered what happened to the girl I used to know, but then I guess she died. Just like I was going to.

Then I got mad.

I didn't deserve this!

Sure, I did a stupid thing, but so what! A million people are out there killing and torturing people, starting wars and spreading illnesses to gain power and they got to live! What could she have done in her short 16-year-old life that she had to die for?

I realised I was crying when lightning flashed again, and I saw myself again.

I was miserable.

Pulshing myself away from the window, I plopped down in front of my computer.

I wanted someone to understand me. To tell me that I didn't deserve this. I wanted someone on my side.

I roamed around the internet for a while, stumbling through chat rooms and scanning over peoples problems before I stareted a conversation.

I was determined to find someone who'll understand me.

I girl named Roxy caught my attention, and after a while of snooping through her convesations with other people, I decided she was the one. She would understand.

I talked to her for a while. Realised she lived about half an hour drive from where I was. Found out she was my age, same grade. Came from an extremely poor family and wanted to change the world.

I almost laughed at home childishly innocent that sounded.

I got her e-mail, and we chatted online for a while.

I decided to drop the bomb.

I told her about my accidents, about my inevitable future. I spilled all my anger and all my self-pity into the conversationand she hasn't said a word.

I expected her to say a lot of things.

Except for what she said.

She told me I was stupid for thinking the thngs I did.

I told her I wanted to just kill myself and not have to wait.

She told me thats about the dumbest thing she ever heard.

She said everything happened for a reason. I didn't deserve to die, that was true. But milions of innocent people died everyday in wars and of dieses and they didn't deserve it either. Life wasn't fair, but you should never give up.

She said I had time left to do something, to be remembered for being someone.

I had things other people only dreamed of having. I lived in a mansion, had more money then I knew what to do with. People were starving and fighting for their lives everyday without even a thought of giving up and I was willing to throw away everything I had for no reason at all.

Only then did I find out that her brother was dying as well, and they didn't have enough money to get him the surgery he needed.

I may not have the perfect family, but I had a few friends, and I had a lot more opprtunities them most people do in their lifetime.

She went ofline without a warning and I wondered if I'll ever talk to her again.

I sat in front of the computer, shocked and confused but almost understanding.

I came to my sences when tears dripped down my face and on my hands.

I woke up.

And I realised that I wasn't dead yet.

I was still alive and I could change things.

I remembered her words and they echoed in my head as I typed an email to Roxy, saying she was right, and I was an idiot, and thanking her for making me understand. I said I hoped we could meet, and I hoped I could see her brother. And then I turned of the computer and the light and cried until I fell asleep.

* * *

I'm sorry, this took a while. I didn't proof read this chapter, so excuse any spelling errors.

Please R&R.


End file.
